


Poison Ivy & Superboy

by Georgina_Sarkissian



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Georgina_Sarkissian/pseuds/Georgina_Sarkissian
Summary: Short scene/roleplay between Poison Ivy & Superboy.------------------Georgina_Sarkissian & Solmiss.
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Superboy
Kudos: 2





	Poison Ivy & Superboy

At the very least, the hospitality of the event was to be admired; with the adequate, tropical decor fitting the profile of a Bornean rainforest, the colourful vines and poison flowers providing an entertaining throwback to her former life. Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley was once everything any self-respecting scientist hoped to be - a nervous, if unsure botanist with quirks for her appearance and an unnatural affinity towards her plants. The institute where she had, unwillingly, shed her childhood ambitions in favour of pursuing nature’s cause, had since burned to the ground, the sole survivor a half-naked goddess clad in coiling, emerald vines, a head of wavy, fiery magenta-red hair cascading freely, chlorophyll-skin shimmering in the night. Every feature she’d kept concealed under her white lab coat, green-framed glasses and pale-auburn ponytail were enhanced by the toxins coursing through her veins: her metahuman form a seething mass of poison, a single drop more than enough to kill hundreds if not thousands if she wished it.

Gotham had been generous in granting her the tools to continue her newfound work - preparing the world for the greening. Maintaining her persona of a botanist, the woman now known to a lesser-few as “Poison Ivy”; a siren to the male-sex, virtually irresistible to anything that breathed the air around her, she had managed to obtain an invitation to the Royal Botanical Garden Charity Ball. The object of her desire - a priceless red diamond wrapped around one of the flower-girls’ neck - contained a hidden secret she sorely coveted for her own. It glowed as brightly to her mesmerising verdant eyes as the dull-brown, silk dress she wore, a flower garment presented on her shoulder and chest, the brown-framed glasses drawing little attention to her natural beauty, masked as it was under little make-up. Cute, dark-green heels clapped impatiently against the tiled floor as she surveyed the gala, her dainty, delicate form fairly unspectacular compared to the scantily-clad models waiting on stage for the main event to commence. For her part, this would be rather simple - a ‘snatch and grab’ job, as Selina would say. It would be so easy. Blowing a few trickles of her potent love dust in the face of one of those flower-girls, enough to convince them to hand over the precious gemstone in return for her fleeting company.

Connor felt quite stuffy at the party he was on clandestine patrol for. “Bad guys will be after that gemstone” was pretty vague, vague enough that he wondered why it had to be him of all the younger heroes to be tasked. The best guess of who would be someone from Batman’s rogue gallery, meaning he’d be overpowered in handling whoever was stupid or reckless enough to even try. He’d hope it would be someone easy on the eyes, like the infamous Poison Ivy, though she would’ve stood out in a crowd of suits and conservative dresses. The flower girls were nice enough, but he could tell it’d be a boring night on patrol.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone had bumped into a shorter lady nearby who was giving the bumper quite the side-eye. Raised a steadfast gentleman, he was already on his knees to retrieve the dull-brown handbag dropped on the ground. Getting at it before someone could step on it, he looked up to see its owner, and shocked at how beautiful she was. She stood proudly above him, hand on her hips as if expectantly, her earlier anger morphed into a smug, oddly satisfied smile. He couldn’t explain why she took his breath away, but he stayed longer on his knees before her than he expected to. A nudge from another annoying party-goer shook him awake, and he cleared his throat to rise to return the dropped bag.

“S-sorry, is this yours, miss?” he asked, tentatively.

Taken back by the rather abrupt nudge, Ivy half-expected to turn and find a middle-aged man seeking to ask for her hand in a dance, to accompany those other fools swaying to the ambient orchestral hum, but when her green gaze fell on the young, immature form with a head of black hair, she felt her full lips curve into a playful smirk. Adopting a low, dominant tone laced with seductive notes, she asked. “Is that how you greet every woman you barge into?” she folded her arms, studying him feverishly, “what do you call yourself, boy?”

He couldn’t remember the last time a beautiful woman, or any woman had held such an effect over him, something he was scared to call power. “I’m Connor, and I very much apologize for my mistake in barging into you. A lady of your...amazing stature,” he found himself oddly, honestly admitting, “deserves better. I-I hope I can make it up to you somehow, for what you deserve.” The whole time he looked directly past her glasses and into her verdant orbs that made his bright blue eyes feel turning shades of green, like she made his cheeks turn shades of red.

Ivy crooned in an even deeper voice, summoning vestiges of her true self, extending a gentle gloved-hand - the soft fabric creasing against his burning skin. “Oh...you don’t need to apologize, sweet thing,” she half-lidded her eyes, blinking as she detected the unmistakable chemical cues of arousal, or adoration, to her they were one-in-the-same. Such pliant puppets of mammalian flesh. “Now that you mention it, there is one way you can make it up to me, but…” Ivy leaned in close, extending her hand to run through the back of his hair, and whispered soothingly, “we might need to go somewhere a little more...out of sight, after all, I’ve got some wild oats...to sew…”

The silken touch to his steely skin made his eyes nearly roll back in their sockets in pleasure. Her wording sounded strange, but the way she put it, and with his farming experience, it sounded like the ideal thing to do, becoming more the only thing to do the longer he stared at her approving form. Then a thought of why he was there, to patrol for bad guys, flashed in his eyes, the way they always flashed when facing off with and fighting a formidable opponent, something the girls always loved, but he was supposed to be hiding, lest anyone catch wind of who he really was. It hurt to disappoint the lady whose offer sounded immensely appealing, but he, in the most stern but polite voice possible, tried turning her down.

“As incredibly appealing as that would sound, Miss,” he’d have to kick himself later for his honest streak, “I’m afraid I can’t. I have...pressing matters to attend to. And you deserve the company of someone more gentlemanly than myself, though I wish I had the time to for you.” He held her gloved hand in his as he said it, treating it preciously, bending to kiss it, letting his lips linger on it a second longer than he meant to.

“You seem to be under the impression that I was asking,” she said, with a hint of venom in her voice, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a shiny, leaf-shaped pouch, pretending to check herself in the mirror, always maintaining eye-contact with the ‘roused boy. “If you have such pressing responsibilities, then you’ll appreciate letting them all go…” With a sultry, arrogant glint in her eye, she slowly, intimately, formed an ‘o’ shape with her sumptuous, kissable lips, blowing gently across the pink cushioning of the make-up compact, releasing a torrent of sparkling, violet-red dust motes that danced and twirled in the air, already heated by the exotic scent of her plant-based perfume, and haloed around his head before he had a chance to come to his senses. The pheromones were a recent creation of Ivy’s, since she first arrived in Gotham, hallucinogens derived from certain arboreal Nepenthes combined with pollen spores of a rare, tropical orchid served to generate a most powerful love potion in the form of phenomenal particulates. Effective in bending every and anyone to her will: Superboy was no different. “Do you feel...like my suggestion is now more warranted, given your state of,” Ivy smirked, running a lone finger down his chest, wisping it away, “intrigue.”

The sum of Connor’s world had suddenly been swept away in a swirling torrent of bright, dancing, mesmerizing colors that urged him to take a deep breath, to take it all in, and to take Dr. Isley all in in all her resplendent glory. His mouth hung open, searching for the words to respond. The last vestiges of duty in him fought to get to the forefront of his mind and mouth, smothered by pheromones, but not before a few words managed to escape. “But...patrol...must, protect…..I…..you” he sighed reverently. “Your suggestions are more than warranted, they are everything.” He breathed easily out, feeling how right she was in that letting everything else go was to his benefit, meaning whatever else she had to say would feel just as important.

Temptation entered Ivy’s mind as she cupped his chin with two fingers, squeezing gently, getting a sense of the hidden strength beneath, just waiting to be unlocked, potential to be used at her leisure until she deemed his worth had run its course. Like all things. Nothing good ever lasts. She blew more of her love dust, but not at the bewitched recipient before her, rather the entire gala. The plumes and coils of trailing sparkles ensnaring each and every individual in attendance, numbing their senses to her intentions as she inquired, adopting that same, loving tone that promised so much. “Tell me, handsome,” Ivy tickled his chin slightly, regarding the flower-girls and the priceless jewellery they’d amassed - as well as the rather large stash of cash behind the stage, “what brings you to my city, mm? Not simply to cash-in on the goods, I hope? Perhaps...you could indulge little ol’ me?” she batted her lashes, the subtle hint of rouge eye-shadow appearing to enhance the green of her luminous orbs as they awaited a response.

Batted eyelashes made his heart flutter, seeing this spellbinding woman bedazzle him and expand her loving spell to others made his regard of her practically ethereal. All the praise and regard she gave him locked down the noble hero in him, but didn’t extinguish it completely as he struggled over giving the exact response she bid of him. “I’m….supposed to….protect….jewel….people...from...rogues...protect….you,” he ended with a rising heartbeat.

“Rogues?!” Ivy exclaimed, sensing the resistance in the boy, “are you trying to deny what is mine?” she smiled, heightening his senses with yet another, far more potent strain of her signature love dust, dismantling his defenses entirely, showcasing her beauty by giving him a clear view of the cut of her chest, and exposing more than enough leg to get his blood flowing faster. “You will serve me, won’t you, dear?” she caressed his hair again, raking her gloved-tips through it, generating sparks with her mere touch, the softness of her breathy words following each, lasting particle that fizzed and crackled around his head, blurring everything around but enhancing Ivy’s very image.

“Oh…..Goddess,” he exhaled as his form suddenly dropped to his knees, overcome by feminine wiles and standing in the presence of divinity, it felt right to humble himself, and his adoration and arousal demanded he show his love, kissing the tops of her heels and feet. “I will serve,” he said between kisses. “Superboy is yours to command,” he continued, hoping he’d pleased his new owner.

“Ah-ah…” Ivy purred, as sensually as she could, lifting her emerald, leafy heel to rest it squarely against his head, keeping him beneath her, “let’s seal that loyalty, shall we?” Popping a gold-canister from her silky purse, she added, “I’ve been saving this for a…” Ivy chuckled, “rainy day.” The lipstick tube unfurled, revealing a semi-glowing, radiant green stick that was smoothed over her full, pursing lips with a vibrating moan, traveling down the length of her leg into the heel that kept him at bay, “...let me dominate you…” she commanded, “body and soul,”, lifting his chin with a lone finger, removing her glove to reveal lime-painted nails, gently wisping against his skin to encourage him closer, she oozed, “let me...kiss you…mmmm…”

Subdued senses and thoughts that relied on Ivy’s guidance brought him to his feet, the only sounds in existence were uttered from Ivy’s enchanting lips. It seemed redundant to have her dominate what she already owned, but that just meant more contact, which made him grin like an idiot. But the mere hint of a kiss on the horizon set his senses on overload, as if preparing him for whatever was to be permanent, whatever Ivy wanted. His Kryptonian grip softened to hold her waist as she leaned in to seal and bind his fate to hers. Her lips against his set him nearly on fire, the center of the universe sandwiched between their lips. He moaned helplessly, his heart and soul figuratively turning green, wrapped in ivy, ready to obey and please Ivy.

When they finally came up for air, he’d let his arms down to his sides as she held him, smiling from all the assurance in the world. “I am yours, please use me as you will,” no lack of confidence or futile sternness was detected in his voice, only reverence.

“And as my first command,” Ivy said, regarding him with a devious grin, knowing his fate was essentially sealed, wrapped as he was around the only part of her that was green - her thumb - she continued, “bring me that attractive little number, the one with the gorgeous diamond. I shall make it my own, and, if you prove yourself useful to my designs, I know just the place to bind your soul to my will…”

“As you command,” he uttered in utter bliss. Faster than the eye could track, he shifted his body through the crowd, and seconds later, he reappeared with an obviously-shocked flower-girl, gemstone and all, holding her firmly in his grasp so she couldn’t get away. It happened so quickly, everyone on the stage and in the crowd was just puzzled. They knew something had happened, but the what, no one had eyes keen enough to detect. The young woman looked at the man who held her, who seemed to stare lovingly at the woman standing in-front of her, bearing a predatory smile that scared her more than her seemingly instant teleportation.

Allowing her arms to unfold, Ivy emerged from behind the strings she was plucking, and addressed the smitten young woman directly, her mere presence simply overpowering to her primitive senses. “I’ll be taking it from here, doll,” she said, giving a ‘poof’ of her lips to blow a small rivulet of love dust in her unblemished face. She wrapped the necklace around her neck, the crimson glow complimenting the fiery shade of magenta of her hair, and the slight red-purple hues of her silk dress, fit snugly as it was around her figure. “As for you,” she purred, her tone a lilt, turning to cup his cheeks tightly, forcing herself against him, breasts pressed against his chest, lips smothering his own in the form of a brutally passionate, hissing kiss, the kryptonite-infused properties of her chemical hypnosis further ensnaring him to her desires, “mmmm-take me to Hawaii, where the sun and sea shall give rise to my new dominion, a seat from which to watch the greening of the world!”

Even more intensely than the flower girl took to the ‘doll’ suggestion so easily, Superboy positively beamed at the plan his marvelous Mistress had hatched, knowing he would be an integral part of it. Discarding the dusted flower-girl, he took the one thing more precious than the gemstone she was wearing in his arms, teleported them out of the crowded hall and quickly into the sky. Pressing his cheek into hers, her bodily warmth warmed him hotter than the sun all the way to a secluded part of Hawaii he once visited, thick with greenery, knowing it would be the perfect place for her to grow roots for her new empire.

“Welcome to Hawaii, Goddess. How can I make your stay here more comfortable,” beyond wanting to give her a moment to gauge her surroundings, he needed to hear her next command, to know how he could make her happy.

Ivy enjoyed the power she had at her disposal, the raw, tameable, fleeting power that was hers to mold into whatever shape she wanted. He would prove useful, for a time, to realise her plans. Hawaii would make for the foundations. “That structure over there,” she said, pressing herself up against the fence, “tear it down, then…” her smile returned, “crawl back to me…”

In a flash, the structure was practically vaporized, imploded from its foundations until it was mere rubble. Superboy reappeared on his hands and knees, crawling forward to Ivy. “It is done, Goddess.”

“Such a good boy,” Ivy oozed, letting the words slip from her venomous lips, loaded as they were with toxins, ready to end his life at any time, whether she willed it or not. It was inconsequential, a matter of time if anything else. Caressing his cheek, alternating between the love-dust-ladled palm and the smooth backside, she swiftly blew across it, unleashing yet another cloud of iridescent motes that weaved through the summer air, the blinding sunlight appearing to make them more sparkly, more intense, heating his blood far more than they did back in the rainforest gala, and as she approached with but a mmm, lips pouting in a confident manner, content with her level of control over his heart, the green-hue of her lips clashing with his own, eyes shimmering in response, he sighed, letting go of his moral compass, giving in to everything Poison Ivy was, and every ounce of pleasure she’d take from his servitude before the world was firmly in her grasp.


End file.
